


That Butler, Devoted

by NarryEm



Series: Fantasy Alternate Universes/Multiverse [10]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fingering, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, blowjob, girl Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1843150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryEm/pseuds/NarryEm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry’s parents were murdered by group of people when he was only fifteen.  At the moment of impending death, he summoned a demon to save him and help him afflict the same kind of humiliation and suffering that he went through to the murderers. Liam will do whatever Harry's bidding is and never tll him a lie.  In return, the demon will devour Harry’s soul once that is done.  Those are the terms of their contract.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Butler, Devoted

**Author's Note:**

> Lately I've become obsessed with this manga/anime and I had to write this. I don't think I've ever written Lirry before that's pretty much the reason why I've chosen this pairing. It's not underage in the time period but if it still offends your tender eyes, don't read it.

 

_The entire Styles estate is burning and Harry hurries to his father’s study.  There are flames everywhere and it’s scary, the devilish flames threatening to roast him alive._

_When he get there he knows he is too late.  His father is sat in the chair, but engulfed in the flames.  Someone grabs him and knocks him out._

_He comes around to the scent of mouldy rots and sewage.  Someone has stripped him of his clothes and he is only covered by a thin sheet.  He shivers, the stone tiles frigid on his skin.  Tears start to well up and he lets them fall, just this once.  His family is gone and his house has probably turned to ashes, scattered about in the winds._

_“The little git is awake,” a man sneers._

_“Let’s see the pretty little face of his,” another says, and Harry’s wrenched upwards by his hair.  He cries out in pain and fresh tears come up._

_“Aw, little noble is scared.”  The men—there has got to be dozens of them—are wearing white robes with large hoods that cover the entirety of their faces.  Some of them come near him and tilt his head up._

_“What should we do with him?” a fourth man asks._

_“He’s our slave for the being so we should mark him appropriately, the mark of a noble beast."_

_Harry’s eyes widen in terror.  “NO!” he shouts but the only answer he gets is a sharp slap across his face._

_The men bring out a branding iron and on it is a strange sigil.  He screams out when the hot iron touches the delicate skin of his ribs, and the wound sears for days.  They don’t do anything to it, other than pour cold water all over him._

_The men are filths, Harry quickly learns.  They beat him for no reason and feed him stale coarse bread once a day.  They also do weird rituals where they speak in tongues, the air seeming to waver and glow as they speak the nonsensical words.  The water that he is given stinks of waste and he throws up half the time he tries to eat.  Once, when one of his kidnappers got too carried away, he stabbed Harry with a small knife, and Harry had wished that he could die from it. (He didn’t.)_

_One night, he hears the men speak of a sacrifice.  Without a doubt, he is meant to be the offering to whatever satanical being they worship.  He could only infer that this was some special ritual because he was dumped into a grimy bath and scrubbed raw, his skin pampered with incense and perfume._

_He was brought out to an altar.  A podium was in the centre of it, and people formed rings and rings of circles around it. He is wearing an all-white ensemble, locked away in a cage._

_I shall never forget today,_ _he vowed in his mind._ _Even after my death, I shall hunt you down and make you feel the same kind of humiliation and suffering I have endured.  I will make you pay._

 _Would you, now?_ _a voice asked_ _._ _It was deep and had to belong to a grown man_ _.  Think carefully now.  It will mean that the gates of heaven will forever be beyond your reach?  Do you wish to form a contract?_

_I do.  Stop asking these tedious questions and let me know if we have deal._

_As long as my master holds the contract, I am his loyal servant.  Your soul.  I would like to devour it once your final orders have been carried out.  Do you wish to close the deal?_

_Will you help me find those who have killed my parents and tormented me like thus?  And do everything within your power to protect me from those who oppose me?  You will carry out my commands unconditionally and never lie to me._

_The winged man nodded and his eyes now appeared to be burning._ _Yes._

_From a distance, Harry saw a tall man with large black wings, black as a raven’s wings, and glowing red eyes regard him with entertainment._

_“So you’re abandoning the light for the path to hell.  Well then, let’s mark our bodies with this contract seal.  The more visible the place where your seal is, the stronger its power.”_

_Harry gritted his teeth. “I don’t care where it’s at. I want a power stronger than anyone else’s”_

_“Quite greedy, despite your small pitiful body. Well then, I shall put the seal on that big eyes of yours, filled with delicious despair.”_

_The demon grasped his face, his arm moving through the metal bars of the cage. There was a burning sensation in Harry’s right eye and he screamed loudly._

_“This is an order: kill them all.”_

_“Yes,” the same voice from inside his head answered, “my Lord.” Just then, the old man finished chanting with the crowd.  The dagger plunged towards Harry’s heart and stopped.  The man let out a strangled sound as he staggered backwards and fell, his eyes hollow and copious amounts of blood dribbling out from his open mouth._

_Harry sat up and found himself surrounded by dozens of corpses.  In the midst of it all stood a tall man with broad shoulders.  A flurry of black feathers were falling around him and to an extent it looked beautiful despite the fact that the man was wearing strange garbs and covered in blood and gore._

_“My Lord,” the man said, turning around to face him.  Gone were the red eyes and in their place were warm brown eyes.  He smiled.  “I seem to lack a name still.”_

_“Liam,” Harry whispered.  “You shall be Liam Payne and you’ll be my butler.  I want you to take me to the remains of the Styles estate and rebuild it.”_

_“Yes, my Lord.”_

_-_

Harry blinks awake to the sound of Liam’s, “Wake up, my young master.  You’ve quite the busy schedule this morn.”

The young earl groans.  His demon butler, bound by the contract they have created, is nothing if not punctual.  He has also managed to scrounge up three workers for the manor.  Niall is a result of some science experiment who has superhuman strength and therefore breaks things easily.  Louis was a hired assassin but couldn’t kill a family man and Liam had somehow found him.  Both of them are incompetent on the best of days yet Harry can’t find it in his heart to kick them out.

“Go away, Liam,” he attempts, knowing full well that he will be dragged out of bed if necessary.

“Have you forgotten that the owner of the company who is interested in making a business deal with you is coming to talk to you this afternoon?  And you are scheduled for Latin lessons later this morning.  There is no time for laziness, my young master.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Harry grumbles moodily.

Liam sighs.  Harry knows that he can be such a nuisance at times but he can’t help it.  It has only been three years since that night and with his eighteenth birthday quickly approaching, he feels as though he should cherish what is left of his childhood.  And by that, he means that he wants to act like a snivelling brat who acts out.

Sadly, his family has long been charged with the job of dealing with the lowlifes of the underground forces of London, the Queen’s “guard dog”.  The blue-stoned ring on his forefinger along with his signet ring shows that rather gauchely. 

Harry sits up in his bed and lets the demon undress him.  In a matter of minutes, he is dressed in his usual three-piece suit and the eye patch has been tied around his right eye.  The demon seal rests upon his right iris, whose reddish pink glow has turned the rest of his right eye a pinkish colour.  He has made up a lie about losing his right eye to the fire and people believed it easily.  His butler lists other things scheduled for the day and Harry has no choice but to listen to them.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

A man dressed in pastel-coloured suit barges into the foyer and immediately, Louis greets him with a smile.  Harry merely scoffs at the man and stares him down.  He is still a child to most noblemen but this one doesn’t seem to think so.

“Lord Styles,” he utters, bowing. “The Queen sends you her best wishes along with another mystery for you to solve.”

“One of her lackeys, then, are you?’ Harry asks.

“Yes.”

“Go on then.  Give me the damn letter and be on your way.  And please give her majesty my thanks.”

“Of course, sir.”

The man leaves after the handing the envelope over to Liam, and Harry wonders what his name is for a second or two.  Liam produces a letter opener and opens it for him.  He passes the ripped envelope to his master without as much as a peek inside.

“Curious little case, indeed,” Harry comments when he is done reading the letter.  “Liam, prepare a carriage to go to London.  It seems that we’ll be needed there.”

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

As a child, the crowded streets of London used to amaze Harry.  Each trip to the capital meant that he had a chance to go sightsee and if he behaved well enough, his mother would buy him toys and other trinkets.  Now, going to London only means that he is working.

The letter contained that there has been a large number of deaths in the city and all of them had been missing their livers.  To most people it would seem that it was the work of occult worshippers.  But Harry knows better.  This could very well be the work of otherworldly beings such as Liam.  Liam insists not a lot of demons prefer the succulent taste of a human soul than their bodies.  However, he doesn’t deny the existent of demons to hunger for human flesh and organs.

“You look a bit pale,” Liam points out.  “Perhaps my Lord is not thrilled with this particular mission?”

“I never quite enjoy playing the Queen’s lapdog, mind you,” Harry retorts.  “The reports put me an unease, is all.”

“I have put some thought into this, my Lord, and my best guess is that this is the work of Goo-mi-ho, or the nine-tailed fox demon.  It is of Korean origin, a small country at the eastern end of China, and somewhat a neighbour to Japan.  They have tales of such foxes appearing to seduce men and clawing out their livers should the men be unfaithful to their wives.

“Why would a demon like that be residing all the way over here in London?” Harry muses, staring out at the green pastures.  Slowly, the landscape turns less green and greyer, grey like the cobblestone streets and the buildings.

“Demons do not travel by the trivial human methods, young master.  For a demon like that, travelling across half the world would take less than the blink of an eye.  And as for the motives, most demons do not have reasons for their actions.  They simply give the free reign to their primal needs and instincts.”

“Do you mean to say that you are a more sophisticated demon?  You have created a contract after all, when you could have easily devoured my soul that night.”

Liam smiles, eyes glistening with something dangerous.  “Those fools were trying to summon a demon either way.  They were doing it wrong as demons do not answer only to the enticing sight and smell of blood.  Strong emotions also lure us in and you, my Lord, provided the missing piece as you sought vengeance.”

Harry glares at the butler.  “Enough chatter.  Let’s go examine the bodies so that you can confirm that this is the work of those fox demons.”

 

It turns out that the Goo-mi-ho is indeed after this.  Liam informs Harry that it is likely the work of a single demon as those female demons are highly territorial and do not enjoy collaborating.

“Can you catch it?” Harry asks, as they walk away from the morgue and the police force.

“Yes, with some difficulty.  You see, we need a bait to lure in the demon, an unfaithful slattern of a husband who will willingly do unmentionable things with women other than his own wife.  Or, in our case, a fiancée.”

Harry groans.  “Fine.  But needless to say, if I am in any danger, you are to withdraw from the mission and save me first, understood?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

For the sake of capturing the demon, Harry had to put on less finely made clothes.  The rough linen and untreated cotton scratches on Harry’s skin, which is more used to silks and muslins.  He would grumble about it if he weren’t at a pub with commoners who are way too loud and intoxicated.

“What’s a young lad like yerself doin’ here?” a man jeers. Harry doesn’t dignify that with a response. 

After a while, when it becomes clear that the fox demon won’t appear, he stumbles out of the pub so that he can pretend to be inebriated.  The plan works quite well as some of the passers-by look at him with disdain.  He continues his lopsided gait until he is at the end of the road.

“Are you lost, sir?” a female voice asks?

Harry looks up, a charming smile already on his lips.  “A bit.  You’re a pretty little thing.”

And she is.  The demon has those oriental features: clear beige skin, dark brown eyes, and hair blacker than the night.  Her lips are stained red with rouge and everything about her screams predatory.

“Prettier than my fiancée,” he slurs.  It is out of his character to do so, but he gropes at her lower back, swaying for effect.

“You’re quite drunk.  Here, let me lend you a hand.”

“Thank you, darling.”

As he has suspected, the demon leads him away from the throngs of people and to the dark unlit back alley behind a closed-down shop.  She seems victorious, but not as victorious as Harry will be momentarily.

“Men are so juvenile, easy to draw in,” she says in a lamenting voice.  “That’s why we must punish you.”

“I’m afraid not,” Harry retorts.  “Liam!”

There is a faint rustling sound as the demon leaps out from wherever his hiding spot was.  The fox smirks, as if she had been expecting it.  “My, my,” she says, a slight lilt to her lyrical voice.  “So the rumours are true: a demon of great powers is working for a little brat of a boy.”

Harry grits his teeth, the words, ‘I’m almost eighteen,’ threatening to fall past his lips.  He knows that to demons, a human lifetime passes in a heartbeat.  “This is an order: kill her, Liam.”

“As if,” the demon jeers.  “You can’t just go around killing ladies, it’s rude!”

Liam rolls his eyes.  “You are hardly a lady.  And besides, since when did that matter to you lot?”

The fox glares, her eyes turning that reddish pink colour that Liam’s eyes do sometimes.  She doffs the English clothes and underneath are colourful and more flowing garments that allow her more mobility.  She slashes with her arm and dozens of small daggers fly towards Harry and Liam.  Liam sweeps Harry up and carries him away to safety.  “Please wait here, my Lord.”

Harry sits down promptly, wrinkling his nose at the edge of the awning that had to have been there for at least a century.  He will have his clothes cleaned as soon as he is back home.  Liam is graceful and beautiful in battle, as he has learnt long ago.  There is a certain feline quality to the way that Liam strikes, his body fluid and swift as he blocks the other demon’s attacks and throws various eating utensils at her.  One of the knives connect with her carotid artery and for a second, she waivers in her steps.

“Foolish little boy,” she snarls, her voice tainted with the supernatural powers within her.  “You can’t just stab at my heart and throat.  I am not like you lesser demons.”

Harry scoffs.  Demons and their arrogance knows no limits, in his opinion.

Then, her face crumples into that of rage and pain when Liam grabs the air behind her and slices through it.  When he pulls back his arm, Harry sees two furry tails of a fox clutched in the hand.

“Ahh,” Liam taunts.  “So this is the source of your power, isn’t it?  I cut away these and when you’ve no more left, you die.”

“I’d like to see you try!”  With the outcry, she lunges forward and delivers a quick kick into where Liam’s kidney would be.  Harry can’t help but wince in sympathy even though logically, he is aware that demons don’t feel pain the same way that humans do.

It all happens too fast.  One moment, Harry is watching Liam trying to grab at the invisible tails and the next, he is being wrenched up by his hair.

“Kill me and the brat dies,” the fox hisses.

Liam sighs.  “Must you try to spice things up in the most expected ways?”  Not even before he finishes his sentence, he drives the heel of his foot into the fox’s throat and turns her over.  He steps on the back of her back as he saws off her tails.  As soon as all nine tails are gone, her eyes turn glassy and a tremor of power jolts through Harry.

“You felt that, huh?” Liam asks and Harry nods.  “That means that she really was borne of great powers.  Luckily for us, my powers outmatched hers.  Well then, shall we return home?”

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

First thing that Harry orders Liam to do is prepare him a hot bath and hot milk with honey.  Travelling into London never fails to exhaust him and he can’t bear the thought of going to bed with the traces of the fox demon still entangled in his hair.  He sulks in the bath as Liam goes away to prepare his cuppa.

“A bit troubled, aren’t you, my Lord?” Liam asks as he returns with the milk.

Harry stares at him levelly in lieu of an answer.  Liam persists, “You don’t like the fact that the she-demon touched you and tried to kill you, therefore you want to wash away any residue that is left from her touch.  I do not understand humans and I have to say that you are the most peculiar one I’ve had the pleasure of serving.”

“I shall take that as a compliment,” Harry snorts.

“Snorting is such unbecoming behaviour for an earl like yourself,” Liam chides. Harry sticks his tongue out in a childish manner.

Liam takes off his gloves to wash his hair for him and Harry recalls when they first met.  Due to all that he has been through, Harry couldn’t bear the thought of other people touching him at all.  He used to force Liam to wait outside once he had prepared the bath and proceeded to wash himself clumsily.  There had been nightmares too, filled with the constant darkness of where his cage had been and blood of his own and the man that he bid Liam to slaughter.  Every night, he would command Liam to stay by his side to watch over him until he fell asleep.

“Can you properly massage my hair?’ Harry requests.  He then realises that he didn’t sound authorative at all so he clears his throat and amends, “I’m still stressed from earlier so massage my scalp; I wish to have a good night’s sleep tonight.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Liam’s fingers are magic, Harry decides.  His dark curls have long been the object of adoration of many people and it feels good to be pampered like thus.  He closes his eye and enjoys the sensation for a while.  It’s relaxing, and he nearly falls asleep like this.

Relaxation can work wonders, it turns out.  He finds himself getting aroused and his cheeks flame up from the realisation.  He can’t relieve himself and he certainly cannot throw out his butler in the middle of a bath. 

“Something the matter, young master?” Liam queries, his eyes flashing with red.

“Nothing’s the matter, you insolent dog.  The water’s hot, is all.”

“Really?” Liam’s lips stretch out into a full-out grin and Harry will be lying if he said that this doesn’t turn him on.

“Go away, Liam.  I think I’m capable of bathing myself.”

“If that is your wish, then, have a good night.”  Liam bows before he walks out.

Harry stares at the door for a moment before he remembers his task at hand and gets to work.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

The next day is certainly no better.  Whilst it is not raining, the skies are skill grey and the weight of his family ring feels heavier than the normal.

The doorbell rings and automatically, Niall goes to greet them since he is the footman.  Then Harry hears it:

“Haaaaaarryyyyyyyy!” a decidedly feminine voice squeals and Harry’s is sure that his eardrums are pierced by it.

A great mess of red lace and silks tumble out of the carriage and right into Harry’s arms.  Harry is suffocated with the smell of rosy perfume and long black hair as the girl positively hugs the life out of him.

“Harry, it’s been such a long time!” Zayn, his fiancée exclaims.  “You’ve not visited me in almost a month!”

Harry looks to Liam for assistance but the butler looks way too amused for his occupation.  He manages to school his expression into a stern one.

“I’ve been busy with the Queen’s missions, Zayn,” he soothes, and tries to extricate himself from Zayn’s vice-like grip with no avail.

“But Harry, you’re only seventeen, you shouldn’t be worked to the ground so hard,” Zayn complains, her pretty red lips pouting adorably.  The old Harry would have smiled to cheer her up. 

“It comes with the family name.  I didn’t know that you’d be visiting today, Zayn.”

“I begged my mum to let me come and she said yes under the condition that I return by nightfall.”

“Good morning, my lady,” Liam greets, bowing.  “You have come at the right time, lunch shall be ready shortly.  Today, I have prepared an exotic dish based in Switzerland.  I do hope that you will like it.”

“Of course I will, Liam!  Your cooking skills are legendary.”

 

It’s always exhausting to have Zayn around with her boundless enthusiasm and her need to make everything ‘cute’.  Undoubtedly, she has brought tonnes of ribbons and upholstery in various shades of red and gold to decorate Harry’s mansion.  She has also brought a suit of dark greens and blues that ‘really bring out your eyes, Haz!’ 

Lunch is a simple French dish out in the gazebo in the garden and Liam leaves with the promise of something more impressive for the supper.  Zayn is easily distracted with the rich aromas of the food and Harry only has to give short answers to her endless questions.  Long ago, before his parents were brutally murdered, he used to be able to match Zayn’s enthusiasm without a hassle.  But these days, he can’t feel happiness the way he used to.

“Harry you’ve let your mind wander again,” Zayn pouts. 

“Sorry, there’s been a rough patch in the business lately,” Harry defends, which isn’t half-false.

Zayn sighs in an exaggerated manner.  “You can’t work _all_ the time, seriously.  I don’t see why you couldn’t have appointed some grown-up to do your work for you.  The company makes more than enough money to cover that and the maintenance of your manor.”

Harry smiles to placate her. “Yes, but it seems that there is no one competent nor trustworthy enough for that.”

For a moment, Harry glances at his butler and surely enough, the demon is smirking ever so slightly.  He senses his master’s gaze for he regains the neutral visage from before.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

In the hours between lunch and dinner, Harry has to take Zayn around the countryside to entertain her.  She is amazed by the lush greens of the forests and is extremely delighted by the little falls deep in the woods.  It’s not that big, only six feet tall at most and it’s surrounded by sturdy oaks.  A few critters venture out of the undergrowth and to Zayn’s delight, a fawn approaches her and head-butts her extended hand.  The animals stay clear of Harry as though they can sense his demon-tainted soul.

For dinner, Harry has no choice but to wear the clothes that Zayn has had made for him.  The colours do compliment him beautifully despite being too rowdy in colour for his tastes. (“But you always wear those dreary greys and browns, and they make you look so sallow and melancholy!” Zayn pointed out.)

“Oh Harry you look so marvellous!” Zayn squeals upon seeing him.  Harry simply offers his arm for Zayn to take and she latches on to it excitedly.  They sit next to each other and Harry leads her into the dining room.  Harry stares at the foreign cooking device set up next to the table.  It has a grill of sorts above another grill and there are small pans on the lower one.  On the top grill, there is an assortment of vegetables and some beef.

“What is that thing?” Harry asks Liam.

“It’s raclette, my Lord.  It’s a Swiss dish that mainly comprises of melted cheese on potatoes served with whatever else you wish to cook on the upper grill.  The cheese has an unpleasant odour but once cooked, you’ll be enjoying the flavour too much to notice it.”

Zayn sniffs the air.  “It does certainly smell interesting.  I can’t wait to taste it!”

Liam, as always, is proven to be right.  The dish is delectable and Harry finishes all that is presented to him.  Dessert is Swiss chocolate cake and Harry is content with the choice.  (In truth, he has a bit of a sweet tooth and Liam spends half his time explaining to Harry why he can’t eat sweets for meals.)

“That was simply an awesome day!” Zayn proclaims when it’s time for him to leave.  “We should do this more often.”

“Of course,” Harry agrees.  “I’ll send word to you when I’m not too busy, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

That night, Harry prepares for bed with Liam’s help as per usual.  It could be his imagination, but Liam’s hands seem to linger on the tops of his thighs as he buttons the night clothes over Harry’s body.

Just as Liam leans over to blow out the candles, Harry clarifies, “You are to do everything I command you to do, correct?”

“Yes, my Lord.  Such is the terms of our contract.  Until you have your revenge, I follow your orders unconditionally and protect you at all costs.”

“Undress yourself,” Harry blurts out.

“My Lord?” Liam asks in confusion.

“I gave you an order.  Undress yourself.”

Liam smirks.  “Quite the late bloomer, are you not?  Most young boys start to, ah, explore their bodies earlier.  But then again, you were rather indisposed during that period when your interests would have started to peak.  Tell, my young master, what is it that you want me to do?”

Harry is too speechless to snap back a witty reply.  Liam has stripped himself of all his black tuxedo and he has an excellent physique.  Harry should have expected this from a demon but still, it is quite mouth-watering.  Liam’s muscles are all developed nicely and his manhood has a satisfying girth to it even whilst flaccid.  The demon is unfazed by Harry’s blatant scrutiny and even turns around so that Harry can complete his inspection.

“Surely you didn’t order me to strip naked so that you could stare at my body and compare, my Lord?” Liam sneers. 

“Shu-shut up!” Harry orders.  “Pleasure me like you would a lover; that’s an order.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Liam stalks towards him like a lion towards its meal.  There is that predatory gait to him and his eyes are glowing reddish-pink with lust, Harry is certain of it.  The bed dips from the additional weight and Harry is thrown off his guard when Liam looms over him.

The demon’s warm lips descend upon his and they are skilful.  Harry has never been kissed on the lips because Zayn only kisses him on the cheek.  It’s a plausible sensation and when there is a wet pressure on the seam of his lips, he parts them.  Liam’s tongue plunges inside and for a moment, he is taken aback by the unfamiliar feeling.  He soon recovers and kisses back in earnest.

A sudden rush of cold night air washes over him as Liam lifts up the night shirt and caresses over his hip bones and then lower.  Harry lets out a desperate sound and clenches his teeth immediately when Liam brushes his fingertips along his inner thigh.

“Is my young master enjoying this?” Liam smirks, lips brushing over Harry’s.  His fingers traipse up, closer to Harry’s growing shaft.

“Shut up and do what I asked you to do,” Harry snaps impatiently.

Still, he is not prepared for Liam’s fingers to wrap around his length.  They are warm and tight just enough to be arousing.  Harry reaches up to tug at Liam’s hair and bring his face down for a thorough kiss.

“Human bodies are so different from a demon’s,” Liam muses.  “Your kind is much more responsive.”  As if to demonstrate, he rubs the tip of his thumb over Harry’s slit, and immediately, more of his seed comes leaking out.  “Your scent is much richer when aroused, and it’s harder to detect interest in my own kind.”

Harry has half a mind to retort rudely, he really does.  But it’s not his fault that Liam chose that moment to slide his body lower and lick at the tip of his member as if toying with it.  All that comes out of his mouth is a garbled cry and a whimper trailing at the end of it.

“So easily aroused,” Liam comments.  “Do you like it, my Lord?  Should I do more?”

Harry glares down at the demon.  “Do whatever you can to make me feel good.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Liam sneaks in one of his one fingers into his mouth and Harry can’t understand the reason behind it.  It is soon explained when a wet pressure is applied to his entrance a moment later.

“Ah, Liam that’s—” Harry doesn’t actually know what to say to that.  It feels heavenly and even more so when Liam pushes inside.  He appears to be practiced at this for he jabs at a spot inside of Harry that makes his toes curl and lips part in a wonton moan.  Minutes pass like thus and Harry finds himself nearing release.  It is only then that he realises that Liam hasn’t done anything to himself.

“Li-Liam,” he pants out.  “Don’t you—unnngh—need some relief as well?”

Liam looks up, eyes ablaze with red.  “Are you offering?  In any instance, I have an excellent control over my body, unlike yourself.  You aren’t ready for anything more, so.”

He returns his mouth to Harry’s prick and it doesn’t take long for Harry to climax.  He clings to Liam in the aftermath like a helpless babe.  There is the slightest brush of lips on the top of his head and with that memory of Liam’s touch fresh in his mind, Harry drifts asleep.

 

 


End file.
